Mithu Markose | The Selfish Giant

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  • mithumarkose 2w

    "Are you still thinking about that girl you saw at Sainte-Chapelle?" he asked.

    #mirakee #writersworld #readwriteunite #she #light #miraquill #ceesreposts

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    Ignited by the caprice of thoughts
    from the deepest corners of my mind,
    the flame engulfed me,
    forced me to look back.
    There she is,
    right below the altar.
    Caressed by the loose strands of hair,
    her face glowed
    under coruscating rays of tales,
    depicted on the stained glass,
    that drew breath from the blazing sun.
    Like the blossoms of gypsophila,
    the gentle hue of stories,
    adorned her hair.
    Every step she made,
    engendered ripples
    that resonated my soul with joy.
    Watching her walk,
    my heart skipped a beat
    and I stood there,
    petrified in bliss.
    I heard whispers in her aroma,
    the poetry of love,
    lost for ages.
    Yet, found again.

    Mithu Markose | 16-11-2021

  • mithumarkose 10w


    In the calmness of night,
    under the shimmering light,
    the lustrous steel
    pierced through the tissue,
    ascending the scarlet elixir
    along the metallic vein.
    Revived and rejuvenated,
    my quill waited for conception.
    Bewildered and lost,
    I set out to find a host.
    To drain the essence,
    and keep me in sense.
    Yet, all I found was trite,
    and the rosy ink clotted.
    I submerged into the cold,
    to fill my papyrus with life,
    While trying to reach infinity,
    I drowned in the pool of insanity.

    Mithu Markose | 19-09-2021

  • mithumarkose 24w


  • mithumarkose 41w


    I walked alone,
    under the blistering sun.
    agonized and scarred;
    The heat shattered me,
    levigated me to dust.

    Blended with the loam,
    scattered all around,
    I was sheltered;
    under the fallen foilage.
    I was nourished and fostered,
    by the yellow-orange shades of bliss.

    The milky crystals started falling,
    wrapping earth
    with flakes of purity.
    Frozen and soldified,
    I descended to the pool of dormant,
    waiting for the pupa to break.

    Blessed with life,
    I germinated to the joyous world,
    stretching the viridescent arms.
    Graced by sunlight,
    and beatified with water,
    I blossomed,
    marveling eyes of all.
    And he called me,
    "the purple tale of love."

    Mithu Markose | 16-02-2021

    #mirakee #pod #readwriteunite #writersnetwork

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  • mithumarkose 50w

    "That cake is so beautiful, isn't it?", Emma said
    "Indeed", Peter replied.
    "If we were the toppings, that young man and the lady"
    "Then?", he asked.
    "I want you to tell your thoughts as if you are seeing me for the first time", she said.
    "I will write it down for you", he said.

    I saw her,
    on the snowy icing,
    embellished with powdered sugar.
    My perfect girl,
    in a purple gown,
    spinning under honeyed snowflakes,
    to the rhythm of sprinkles.
    Is she a fairy in disguise,
    or an angel from heaven.
    Her wings are gleaming,
    with caramel crystals.
    The halo above her,
    radiates the divinity of candied berries,
    like a goddess,
    in human form.
    I stood motionless,
    far away from her,
    a topping ornating this gateau,
    deep rooted
    in the moist chocolatey earth.
    Yet, I feel light as a feather,
    floating in the air.
    For she is the blessing,
    I much awaited.

    Mithu Markose | 11-12-2020


    #she #allabouther #mirakee #pod #readwriteunite #writersnetwork #angel #goddess #fairy #cake #winter #icing #sweet #sugar #caramel

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  • mithumarkose 55w


    The hue of void
    spread it's wings,
    and hid the eternal flame.
    While I floated in limbo,
    she emerged from nihility
    and plucked a feather,
    creating a crevice of glow.
    Tired and stressed,
    she dropped the bag
    and stared at me,
    surveying the edges of her reflection.
    Her intense look,
    nullified the barrier,
    as if I am not her reflection,
    rather I am her.
    Slowly, my lips moved.
    Pouring out her thoughts,
    loud and clear.

    "Long, short or bald,
    blue,green or pink,
    I will adorn my hair,
    the way I like.
    While you resonate my ear drum,
    starting with the length of my dress,
    the spectrum of my friends,
    the peak of my dreams,
    the depth of my age,
    the girth of my body,
    the nobility of my caste,
    and the colour of my skin.
    Why is it that your eyes,
    go down to my chest,
    Is my face not fair enough for you?
    Or the scars on my face,
    traumatize the 'don't cry' will of yours?
    Oh sorry,
    You are being solicitous,
    about my happiness,
    about my welfare,
    about my life.
    Yet, phoney words and leering,
    deciphers the fake and amoral trait of yours,
    unveiling the unscrupulous,
    misogynistic person.
    And darling,
    who are you to judge me?
    What right do you have on me?
    Enlighten me,
    dear plaster saint."

    Mithu Markose | 07-11-2020


    Image courtesy -

    #writersnetwork #pod #mirakee #readwriteunite #she #mirror

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    Her intense look,
    nullified the barrier,
    as if I am not her reflection,
    rather I am her.
    Slowly, my lips moved.
    Pouring out her thoughts,
    loud and clear.

    (Read Caption)

    Mithu Markose | 07-11-2020

  • mithumarkose 62w

    When you find the last drop of honey in the jar.
    #malayalam #varikal #ezhutu #malayalammirakee

    Image courtesy -

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    നിശാപൂവിൽ ഒരു മധുകണമായി,
    തെളിഞ്ഞു നീ.
    പൂമ്പാറ്റകൾ തൻ,
    വർണച്ചിറകിൻ രഹസ്യം നീ.
    ജീവാമൃതം നീ.
    എൻ ജീവോദ്യാനത്തിൻ,
    ഈ പുലരൊളിയിൽ
    വന്നണഞ്ഞ ലാവണ്യമേ.
    എൻ ആത്മാവിൽ,
    പുതുസ്വാദേകിയ ചെറുകണമേ.
    എൻ കനവുകൾക്ക്,
    മാധുര്യമേകിയ കൃപാവരമേ.
    അരുതേ വിടചൊല്ലരുതേ.
    എൻ നിശ്വാസമേ,
    എൻ ജീവാംശമേ.

    മിത്തു മർക്കോസ് I 18-09-2020

  • mithumarkose 63w

    Poem by death

    #death #pod #readwriteunite #mirakee #writersnetwork #blossoms #spring #winter
    Thanks for the background image Rahul V ��

    On the coldest day of winter,
    I met her in a narrow corridor.
    Disturbed, agonized, mortified,
    she scuffled with me,
    before fading away.
    Her soul was like a snowflake,
    pure and light.
    Slowly, time melted,
    resurfacing the season of flowers.
    In the tranquility of darkness,
    I saw her again,
    six feet deep,
    shrouded by soil
    graced by the holy cross.
    The roots held her,
    closer to their heart.
    The blossoms,
    glazed over the grave,
    percolating their life to revive her.
    The leaves,
    swayed under the north wind,
    murmuring hymns to wake her.
    Sheltered under the shade,
    she is at peace.


    Mithu Markose I 15-09-2020

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  • mithumarkose 68w

    Water droplets

    #mother #rain #pod #water #droplets #drop #ship #paperboat #readwriteunite #mirakee #writersnetwork

    Image courtesy -

    The Drop

    Raindrops descended,
    crafting tremors of gelidity
    on my cheeks.
    The beads kept falling,
    and it grew from puddle to pool.
    I went in, grabbed some paper.
    Rectangle, triangle,square;
    The old print transmogrified.
    My ship, the crusader of waters,
    nightmare of Kraken,
    "The Ghost",
    helmed through the sluggish water.
    She receded from me,
    pitching with the ripples.
    Water is here,
    at my door step,
    tingling my toes with dampness.
    Amma was packing things,
    her face, shimmering like an angel.
    I asked her,
    "Can we live in a ship?"
    She cracked a smile,
    and asked me why.
    "When it rains we leave home,
    unless we live in a ship."
    All of a sudden, she embosomed me,
    and a droplet kissed my cheek.
    A warm scintillating drop,
    that fell from heaven.

    Mithu Markose | 09-08-2020

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    The Drop

    I went in, grabbed some paper.
    Rectangle, triangle,square;
    The old print transmogrified.
    My ship, the crusader of waters,
    nightmare of Kraken,
    "The Ghost",
    helmed through the sluggish water.

    Mithu Markose | 09-08-2020

    (Read Caption)

  • mithumarkose 72w

    One of my childhood conversations with mom.

    Me: Amma, what will happen when we die?
    Amma: We will become stars.

    @mirakee @writersnetwork @readwriteunite
    #mirakee #stars #readwriteunite
    Image courtesy - Pinterest (DIY Home)

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    I lie down,
    numb and motionless.
    My inside is in turmoil,
    comprehending the chaotic me.
    Slowly, the roots on me proliferated,
    plunged deep into the earth.
    I looked up,
    Moonbeam gleamed over me,
    from the dark canvas,
    filled with tiny shades of purity,
    the twinkling spheres of soul.
    A gust of wind,
    her messenger,
    swirled around my ears,
    and whispered,
    "Sleep my child,
    and I will make you a star."

    Mithu Markose | 11-07-2020